her hair was like wild fire
her eyes laced with charcoal. intentions bold.
her legs were dressed in purplepleather
her hands dipped in tar, candied looking in
their
impossible black gloves. she told me
over pink drinks that
she had grown up a lot
since the last time we met
and tears danced their way down
her apple cheeks
and she didnt bother to wipe
them away
burning holes in anything and everything.

i took two steps back.